Rapturous
by Nicole J. Coltan
Summary: "Follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly." Claire Byrne had seen enough in life to know that nothing good would come from this—not where anarchy and mayhem are involved. Because you know what they say, there's nothing better than a bad boy on a bike.
1. Chapter One: Insignificant

**_Rapturous_**

 _by **Nicole J. Coltan**_

 _"You don't want to get on my bad side—because from where I'm standing, things don't look that good for you..."_

 ** _Disclaimer_** : I don't own anything related to the Sons of Anarchy. I merely own my Original Characters.

I also do not own the name, Deadshot. That credits goes to **_DC Comics_**. I am merely using the name as a nickname of sorts. Just thought I'd point that out.

I am no expert on how the Marines work; so if those who do feel as if though the information in this story is not correct, please point it out and I'll correct it.

This is set in Tacoma, but it will eventually lead into season one and onwards. I am not giving up on Fallen From Grace; this is just a simple side project to keep my mind going with ideas so that I don't get stuck.

Please remember that review is love! I'd like to hear what you guys think of this so far.

* * *

 _ **Chapter One: Insignificant**_

* * *

Insignificant.

It had been that way since she had turned five and without a doubt, it would continue to be so. Being the daughter of a motorcycle enthusiast wasn't what most people made it out to be and for Claire Byrne, that clarification alone had come with personal experience.

 _The Executioners._

Claire had been three years old when her father had started the MC under the influence that he could make a difference, that he could lend a helping hand to those who needed it the most and it had seemed that things were finally looking out for their family—that is until her mother had discovered the truth behind what her father truly did and once the truth had reigned free; nothing could have stopped the woman from packing up and leaving.

It had taken her years to overcome the anger and resentment she had felt towards the woman for leaving her—as she had been the one forced to watch her father lose himself to drugs, booze and woman.

Leaving home had never crossed her mind until she turned sixteen—having grown accustomed to the various woman coming and going through her home had been somewhat tolerable, as the girl had been immersed in studies and sports; so when the news came that her father had managed to knock up some woman, it had been the final straw—and once her mind had been made, Claire knew there was no going back.

But still, she had held unto the small thread of hope that the man she called father would realize that he was pushing her away; that he'd come to his senses and see that she was trying all she could to make him proud.

And he reminded her that he had little regards for her hopes and dreams. He had called her worst names before but the one that stung the most had been when he told her that she was insignificant—holding no true meaning in a world that would do better without her.

And she believed him. But still that didn't stop her from proving everyone who ever doubted her wrong. She'd make something out of her life and nothing would and could stop her.

Because if there was one thing that being a Force Recon Marine had taught her; it would be to never give up and never surrender. Becoming someone important in life had been something Claire hadn't known she needed.

Through sheer determination, Claire had done what she had set out to do; she had stood firm in what she believed in and made her mark in the world. And she couldn't have been more proud of herself.

But despite all her success, the aspiring woman couldn't help but want more. Like something was missing in her life—and it was up to her to figure out what that was. If there was one thing that Claire Byrne had in common with her father; it would be her love for the open road.

The first time she had gotten on the back of a motorcycle had her coming home with a broken wrist and sprained ankle—but the look in her eyes spoke volumes. _ **"I want a motorcycle, daddy."**_

But that had been before life took a turn for the worst, leaving Claire wondering what she had done to make life hate her so. It was a question that had popped through her mind more often than not and one who had only just been answered.

Life in general wasn't fair. You just had to learn how to roll with the punches or risk being left behind. _**"I don't know if this is want I want anymore."**_ She had found her worth in something far more bigger than she could have imagined and for a time being, that had been enough for her.

So when she had been honorably discharged for her sixteen year service in the Marines, having worked herself up from the bottom to the top, well anyone who knew her well enough hadn't been surprised to see the relief shimmering behind her orbs.

Because despite her success—she still wanted more.

* * *

It hadn't taken a fool to notice that the woman was nervous, from the way her fingers drummed against her bouncing knee and the occasional flicker of hesitancy flashing across her eyes, the closer she found herself to Tacoma.

Not having been home in years, Claire had been reminded of the day she had left. Nervous would have been a gross understatement to describe what had been going through the eighteen year old's mind but knowing that staying was no option, it had been a decision that hadn't come without a price.

Did she still have a home to go back to? If her father had noticed her absence, he hadn't made it known. The man had never returned the letters she had written throughout the years and hadn't it been for the one phone call, Claire would have thought the man dead.

He had called her the foulest names he could conjure under the high influence of cocaine rushing through his veins and had it not been for the truth lingering behind his words, Claire would have missed it.

 _ **"—you left me, just like that mother of yours did."**_ It didn't take a fool to notice the anguish lilting the man's voice and despite his harsh treatment towards her, the man was still her father and that was a fact Claire couldn't change.

 ** _"You going home after this shit, Sergeant?" It had been an innocent question that had made the woman pause in her steps, the cogs in her brain turning a mile a minute as she milled around the possibility that home no longer existed._**

 ** _But being a woman who valued truth more than anything else, Claire Byrne couldn't find it within herself to lie to a man that had been there for her every step of the way, "I'm not sure about it being a home but I guess I am heading in that direction."_**

It hadn't been an easy journey for Claire but thankfully she had someone like James to rely on. Despite being a man in his prime, Claire could honestly assume that he had been a heartthrob back in the day. He had been her mentor and her guide through the darkness, a helping hand whenever she needed one and despite the rumors that had spread throughout the years, their relationship was platonic and nothing more.

Blinking from her troubled thoughts and memories, Claire shifted in her seat and glanced about. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Seattle–Tacoma International. Local time is—," drowning out the rest of the flight attendants voice, Claire merely remained seated while fastening her seat belt—and eased back into the comforting recliner (making a note to thank James for getting her in first class).

"You done this before?" Flicking her gaze towards the elderly woman sitting beside her, Claire managed a small smile before nodding her head.

"Yes ma'am," Claire confirmed before shrugging her shoulders, "–hundred of times before," the woman paused at the confused stare and elaborated as she pointed a finger at herself, "–Marine."

"Oh," the woman murmured in realization, nodding mostly to herself before shaking her head, "–well on that case, welcome home soldier." Claire blinked in astonishment, turning her head to gaze at the grinning woman and frowned.

"I might be old but I'm not blind, I know that look from a mile away," it was hard not to smile at the woman's assumption but knowing better than to mouth off towards an elder, Claire refrained from correcting the woman and nodded, "–its good to see that this world still has some good in it."

 _That's what they want you to think, lady. There's no good left in this world and I doubt there ever will be._

The plane shuddered as it entered some turbulence and though she could see some people shift in unease, Claire welcomed it with open arms. It was a reminder that—despite her initial discomfort at finally coming back to Tacoma—this wasn't an illusion her mind had conjured.

 _ **"Don't forget who you are, kid. The world out there doesn't give two shits about you. It's not going to be easy, going out there and pretending none of this shit happened but I know you'll make it through. Just promise me one thing—."**_

Claire Byrne knew that it wouldn't be an easy feat; pretending to live on as a normal citizen while being plagued with memories of a war that would never be won. There was no good left in the world, that much she had learnt from her time in the Marines. She had seen enough to proclaim such a statement as she had been there—protecting the world from a truth that should never be revealed.

 _ **"—never forget who you are."**_

Roused from her thoughts at a soft hand gripping her shoulder, Claire turned to smile at the elderly woman gazing at her in concern. Yeah, this was the reason she needed to remain strong. "You're going to be fine, sweet. Just don't let it win."

 _Old people wisdom,_ Claire thought with a wry grin and nodded at the woman, her eyes expressing the gratitude she felt towards the words and glanced at the mass of people bustling about. Had she been so deep in thought that she failed to notice that they had landed?

Shaking her head, Claire stood from the comfortable warmth the soft material had provided for the past seven hours and reached towards the compartment above them, _old people handbags._

"You don't have to get that—," smiling at the old woman in reassurance, Claire merely heaved the few items from the small area and handed it to the woman, "It's no problem, ma'am. Just doing what I do best."

 _And it's not saving kittens from trees._

* * *

The heavy duffel bag made a loud thunk as it dropped to the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls and reassuring her that this was what real emptiness sounded like.

It had scared her, that much she could admit without coming off as a liar, because it was one thing to lie to another and lie to yourself.

Being back had triggered memories her mind had fought to keep at bay and though she had thought herself ready to face her demons, driving through the streets of what had once been her home was a clear reminder that she had fooled herself at thinking she could go through with it.

 _Jesus Christ, Claire. You're a Marine, not some pussy who cries at every little thing._

Timid about the whole situation she had put herself in, Claire knew that she needed to be strong. But that was a matter she could deal with later. Not having slept a wink for the past week, the woman could feel fatigue hit her from all sides imaginable.

Rubbing a tired hand across her face, Claire glanced at the case still clutched in her hand and grimaced. If served as a constant reminder of what process she had gone through to get this bad boy smuggled into the country and despite feeling ashamed of what she had done, Claire Byrne slept better at night knowing it remained a mere arm length away.

Her Barrett M107.

Claire had forged a successful career as a Marine Sniper, having earned the nickname _Deadshot_ for her uncanny ability with a rifle and never having missed a shot in her life. It was what she excelled in—and it was because of that reason alone that Claire refused to part with her 50. cal rifle.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, something that she did more often than not, Claire carefully placed the case against the wall and eyed her surroundings.

It had been obvious from the start that she'd never set foot into the house that held her childhood memories in lock and key, so it had been decided that it would be best to get herself a small but livable apartment—which in Tacoma wasn't hard to find.

One bathroom, a small kitchenette, one bedroom and a living area; Claire couldn't have asked for more.

It was the sounds of sirens that roused the woman from her daze and Claire couldn't help but grin in amusement.

 _There's only one way to celebrate this and that's by getting shit faced until I can't remember my name._

But knowing that exhaustion and alcohol didn't mix well together, Claire knew better than to give into temptation—because the moment her head hit the cushion, it was lights out.

 _Tommorow was another day._

* * *

 _AN_ : So this is the new story I've been working on. I'm not sure if I want this to be a Happy or Kozik pairing but I'll leave that decision up to you lot as I haven't gotten to writing chapter two yet. I'm just throwing this out there as a tester of sorts—see if you guys want more.

But as the ideas keep popping into my head, I have a lot planned for this. I'll be revealing a lot more in the future chapters, just want to work out where I'm going with this. I can't wait to hear what you guys think so please feel free to criticize and express what you think of this snippet.

 _Much love_

Nicole J. Coltan.


	2. Author Note!

_Author Note: I would like to apologize to all my readers who have read Chapter Two and those who haven't—though I'm sure some of you might be confused, but fret not. I am in the process of editing **Chapter Two** in hopes that it would avoid further confusion. I had not been thinking properly when I updated the chapter and upon personal reasons, I have decided to rewrite the entirety of Chapter Two. I will remove this note when I have rewritten and updated the new chapter as well as Chapter Three. _

_I apologize for the inconvenience I have caused and hope that you as my readers will understand._

 _Much love,_

 _Nicole J. Coltan._


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